


Destiny Rewritten

by Forlorn Kumquat (sara_wolfe)



Category: Charmed
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-18
Updated: 2012-05-15
Packaged: 2017-11-03 20:57:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/385857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sara_wolfe/pseuds/Forlorn%20Kumquat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Your soul for your sister's life. How can you possibly refuse?" Paige makes a choice that will change her life - and her sisters' lives - forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in early season four, between "Charmed Again" and "Hell Hath No Fury".

At the time, catching the energy ball in the palm of her hand had seemed like a good idea. Actually, since said energy ball had been headed directly at Piper, who had no chance to get out of the way, it seemed like the only idea.

At the time.

Except now she was holding live electricity in her bare hand, and human beings were not meant to handle electricity. Every nerve ending in her hand and arm was on fire, and she couldn't feel anything except for the blinding pain shooting up her body, and every instinct she had was screaming at her to _throw the damn ball away, already!_ And she did.

She was aiming for the demon that had thrown it in the first place, she honestly was. But, she'd forgotten that she was fighting alongside two sisters, and not just one, and while she could see Piper out of the corner of her eye, she hadn't kept track of where Phoebe was. And she hadn't seen Phoebe as she'd levitated toward the demon, hadn't seen her until it was too late, until the energy ball had clipped her in the hip, sending her spinning through the air to crash into the banister of the stairs.

The energy ball had fizzled out after it had struck Phoebe, but it had been enough of a distraction for Piper to throw an explosive blast at the demon. It hadn't vanquished him, they needed the Power of Three for that, but it had injured the demon enough to get him to retreat, shimmering back to Hell to lick his wounds.

Leaving Paige alone with one sister that she'd inadvertently injured, and another that wanted to kill her.

Piper had already started toward Phoebe as soon as the demon had disappeared, bending over their unconscious sister and rolling her gently onto her back. Phoebe had a dark bruise on her temple where her head had struck the banister, and her eyes stayed shut, even when Piper called her name, sharply. Her chest was rising in slow, shallow breaths, and her face was too pale to be healthy.

"We need to-" Paige started to say, but Piper shot her a slashing look, her eyes hard as she glared.

"Haven't you done enough?" she snapped, and Paige took an automatic step backward at the cold fury in her older sister's voice. "Leo!" Piper snapped, her eyes on the ceiling as she dismissed Paige with little more than a thought. "Leo, get down here!"

Paige backed away from her sisters as Leo orbed into the Manor, immediately kneeling down beside Phoebe to heal her head injury. Her hand brushed against her leg as she moved, and she stifled a yell as a blinding pain shot from her hand, up her arm. Glancing down, she saw that the skin on the palm of her hand was bright red and starting to blister. For a second, her mind with blank with pain and the beginnings of panic, and then the long hours she'd spent in first aid training kicked in.

 _'Water,'_ she thought, as she headed into the kitchen. She flicked the cold water on with her good hand, putting her burned hand under the spray.

Then, she had to force herself not to jerk her hand out from under the water almost immediately, as the water hitting her palm made the pain ratchet up to nearly-unbearable. She gritted her teeth, but she was unable to stop a soft whimper of pain from escaping her clenched teeth. Digging the fingers of her good hand into her leg, she watched as the water washed over the burn. Slowly, the pain receded as her hand numbed to the cold, and after about five minutes, she couldn't feel anything in her hand. An experimental poke to her wrist reassured her that the loss of feeling was due to the cold, rather than the burn.

As she kept her hand under the water, she looked around the kitchen. She knew that Piper and Phoebe kept a first aid kit somewhere in the kitchen, in case of emergencies when cooking or making potions, but they hadn't told her which cabinet it was in. And she didn't want to take her hand out from under the water long enough to look for it. She cast a quick glance toward the living room, wondering briefly if she should call someone in to help, but then Piper's furious face filled her memory, and she flinched away from the idea. She'd made her sisters made enough at her for one day; no, she could manage this on her own.

 _'Think,'_ she scolded herself. _'It's just a simple first aid kit. You can do this.'_

Then, when the answer occurred to her, Paige could have slapped herself. With her new power, all she had to do was call for it. A second later, the first aid kit had materialized in her hand in a swirl of bright, white lights.

Setting the white, fairly-decent-sized box on the counter, she thumbed the latch up and flipped it open, the lid smacking against the tile with a soft pop. She dug through the cluttered kit, one-handed, and made an absent note to take time to reorganize the box so that things were easier to find. If her sisters were willing to let her back in the house, that was.

She found the roll of thin, white gauze at the bottom of the kit, along with a roll of medical tape. After she'd left her hand under the water for another minute, she shut the water off and carefully patted her hand dry with a clean towel, wincing as the towel dragged across her overly-sensitized skin despite her best efforts.

She put a folded gauze pad in the palm of her hand, directly over the worst of the burn, and then she slowly wrapped her hand in the gauze bandage, securing the end with a strip of tape. When she was finished, she dumped the supplies back into the first aid kit, and then opened every cabinet in the kitchen until she found the empty space where the kit had been sitting before she used it. She meticulously wiped up the water that she'd splashed on the counter while she'd been treating her burn.

And then, when she was done stalling, she screwed up her courage and went back out to the living room, where her sisters were undoubtedly waiting to yell at her over her screw-up.

"-Piper, she's still new to the Craft."

"She nearly got you killed, Phoebe! Hell, she nearly killed you, herself."

Paige winced at the strident tone in Piper's voice, pausing at the doorway. She blinked back the tears that had sprung to her eyes at Piper's accusation, trying to swallow past the lump in her throat.

"None of us were perfect when we first started out as witches," Phoebe protested, and Paige managed a small smile. At least one of her sisters didn't seem to hate her.

"This never would have happened when Prue was alive," Piper shot back, bitterly, and Paige nodded, grimly. She'd been wondering how long it would take before that argument came about.

She also decided to make her presence known. She'd heard more than enough, and she just wanted to get out of there, and the only way to her car was through the living room to the front door.

 _'Really need to work on that whole orbing thing,'_ she thought, as she stepped out into the living room.

Piper and Phoebe immediately stared at her, and from the horrified look on Phoebe's face, it was pretty clear that she knew Paige had overheard their conversation. Paige didn't let her say anything, though, crossing over to where she was standing to give her a quick hug to reassure herself that she was all right.

"Are you okay?" she asked, and Phoebe nodded, numbly. "I'm really sorry about what happened," she went on, without giving Phoebe time to speak. "I swear, it's never going to happen, again."

"Paige, it was an accident," Phoebe protested, weakly.

"And it won't happen again," Paige promised. "I have to get back to work."

Then, she darted out the front door before either of her sisters could say anything.


	2. Chapter 2

When she walked through the door of South Bay Social Services, Paige let out a quiet sigh of relief when she didn't see her boss lying in wait for her. Her relief was short-lived, however, when Cowan called out to her from his office, his voice carrying clearly across the clinic. 

"That man doesn't miss anything, does he?" Ben Georges, one of the social workers, muttered when she passed him on the way to Cowan's office. "I swear, I had an easier time sneaking out of the house as a kid than getting anything past him."

"Me, too," Paige replied, softly. 

Then, she squared her shoulders and knocked on Cowan's open door, entering the office when he grunted in a wordless response. She took the seat he'd indicated on the opposite side of his desk, waiting for the older man to finish what he was doing and look at her. She resisted the urge to squirm, uncomfortably, while she waited, feeling like she was seventeen, again, and that Cowan was her social worker again, rather than her boss. 

The office was silent for several long minutes while Cowan flipped through the file on his desk. When he finally looked up, there was an inscrutable expression on his face. 

"Correct me if I'm wrong," he said, mildly, "but your lunch is an hour long, isn't it?"

"Yes," Paige said, quietly.

"And it's been an hour and a half since you clocked out," Cowan continued, in that same, overly-calm tone. Paige almost wished that he would start yelling. Yelling was easier to bear than the quiet disappointment she could see in his eyes. "Would you care to explain why?"

"I – I had car trouble," Paige muttered, hoping that Cowan couldn't hear the tension in her voice. 

She hated lying to her boss, but it wasn't like she could just come out and tell him that she'd been unavoidably delayed fighting a demon. She couldn't tell anyone, that was the problem. Ever since she'd found out that she was a witch, she'd been lying to everyone she cared about. 

Her relationship with Shane had gone straight down the toilet. She'd begged off dinners with her aunt and uncle twice in as many weeks because she couldn't figure out what to tell them. Her previously-perfect record at work was tarnished because she kept getting called away on magical emergencies. And from the look on Cowan's face, today just might be the last straw. 

"Car trouble," Cowan repeated, slowly, and Paige's heart sank at the stony look on his face. He didn't look like he believed her. 

"I ran out of gas," Paige said, hating how the lies came easier and easier every time she told them. "I had to walk to the nearest station for a fill-up."

"You didn't see your gas gauge?" Cowan asked, and Paige bit back wince. Not only had she not seen her imaginary gas gauge, she also hadn't seen the trap she'd just walked right into. 

"It's broken," Paige managed to force out, hoping that the words sounded natural. It wasn't completely a lie; her car was kind of a wreck, and the gas gauge got stuck on occasion. She tended to rely on the odometer when she drove, refilling her tank every two hundred miles to be on the safe side. 

"What happened to your hand?" Cowan asked, and Paige blinked in surprise at the sudden, unexpected change of topic. 

"I burnt it on the engine," Paige told him, as she moved her hand off the desk to cradle it in her lap. "Because of the gas gauge, I didn't know what was wrong with the car, and I thought it might have been something with the engine, so I popped the hood to take a look. I couldn't find anything, but I burnt my hand." The lies were just flowing like water, weren't they?

"Looks like you already took care of it," Cowan remarked, and Paige nodded. 

"I've got a first aid kit in my car," she mumbled. 

Cowan fixed her with a long, unblinking stare, and Paige wondered if she was about to be fired. Not that it was completely undeserved; she'd been splitting her focus the last couple of weeks, and her career had gotten the short end of the stick. 

_'Looks like I'm failing on all fronts,'_ she thought, morosely, Phoebe's unconscious face flashing briefly through her mind. _'My boss is mad at me, Piper hates me-'_

Cowan pulled her out of her thoughts when he cleared his throat, and Paige snapped her attention back to the older man. He was still watching her with that blank expression on his face. 

"These need to be run over to the police station," he said, suddenly, closing the folder that was sitting in front of him and adding it to a small stack of similar files. He shoved the pile across his desk until it was sitting in front of her. "Can your car make a trip across town?"

"Yeah," Paige said, nodding rapidly, as she scooped the files up before Cowan could change his mind. "I'll be back before you know it. I swear."

"You'd better," Cowan said, a mild tone in his voice. 

Paige only nodded again, darting out the door with the files in her arms. She snagged her coat from where it was hanging on the back of her chair, shoving her arms into it as she practically ran to the door. Opening the door to her car, she dumped the files on the passenger seat and got in, starting the engine. The engine coughed a couple of times before it finally turned over, and as she was driving out of the parking lot, she noticed that the needle of the gas gauge was nearly on empty. 

She could have sworn that she'd had at least half a tank that morning, but apparently the universe was going to make her lie to Cowan come true. But, she didn't have time to stop for gas, now; she could only hope that she had enough left in her tank to make it to the end of the day. 

She got to the police station in about fifteen minutes. Going into the precinct, she glanced down at the sticky note that Cowan had put on the top of the files, and then she went over to the front desk. 

"Hey, I'm looking for a parole officer named Mitchell," she told the desk sergeant. "I'm from Social Services."

"Down the hall," the sergeant told her, with a jerk of his head. "Third door on the left."

As if the man's words had been some kind of a summons, the door he'd indicated flew open with a loud crash as it slammed against the wall. A kid who couldn't have been more than thirteen or fourteen came sprinting out, heading for the front door. Paige dumped the files on the desk and moved to intercept the kid. Maybe rampaging demons still threw her, but a scared kid? That was something she knew how to deal with. 

She grabbed the kid by the arms when he tried to run past her, spinning with his momentum and accidentally-on-purpose knocking him into the front desk. The kid grunted as the breath was driven out of him with the impact, and she pinned him to the desk with her arm when he tried to move back. 

"Hey, calm down," she told the kid, who was still struggling against her hold. "Where do you think you're going, anyway?"

"Out of here," the boy growled, and Paige rolled her eyes. 

"You're in a station surrounded by cops," she pointed out. "Exactly how far did you think you were going to go?"

The kid didn't answer, and Paige turned her attention to the cop, presumably Mitchell, who was approaching them. 

"Nice tackle," he said, sounding impressed. 

"I played football with the boys in high school," Paige told him. "Only girl on the team. I had to learn to keep up."

"But, you're tiny," the desk sergeant protested. 

"I can take you down," Paige muttered under her breath, getting a smirk from Mitchell. 

"I'll take our would-be escapee, now," he told her, and Paige passed the kid over to him. "Thanks, by the way. Henry Mitchell."

"Paige Matthews," she introduced herself, forgoing a handshake because the guy was still busy. "Those are for you," she went on, gesturing to the files on the desk. "From Social Services."

"More case files, probably," Henry sighed, as he picked the files up with his free hand. "Any surprises in here?"

"I don't know," Paige admitted, with a shrug. "I'm just the gopher. My boss didn't mention anything, though."

"Got a number I can call if I have any questions?" Henry asked, and Paige pulled one of her business cards out of her purse. "Oh," Henry went on, with a raised eyebrow, "this is _your_ number. Well, saves me from having to ask."

"Oh, man," the kid groaned, before Paige could say anything. "You are not flirting with this chick right now."

"First of all, Speed," Henry told the kid, "this chick just saved you a lot of trouble, so say thank you. Second, shut up."

"How am I supposed to apologize if I have to shut up?" the kid muttered under his breath. 

"You've got a smart mouth on you." Henry started in on the kid as he muscled him back down the hallway, toward his office, and Paige could hear him lecturing the boy until the door shut behind him, cutting his voice off. 

Paige grinned to herself, the first time all day, and then she headed back to work.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, and by the time her shift was over, Paige wanted to do nothing more than go home, curl up on the couch with an old movie and a big bowl of popcorn, and forget that the morning had ever happened. But, she couldn't do that. Not if she wanted her sisters to ever speak to her, again.

No, what she needed to do was become a better witch. The accident that morning, where she'd nearly killed Phoebe, could never happen again. She wasn't going to let it happen again.


	3. Chapter 3

Before she'd left work, Paige had done some research on the occult shops in the area and made a list of the most likely places to find the information she was looking for. So far, she was striking out. 

The first two places clearly considered "occult" to be synonymous with "possesses hundreds of candles". The second store had actually caught fire – well, the curtains, at least. A discreet use of her new powers had gotten the curtains off the windows so that she could stomp out the flames – mourning the loss of a new pair of shoes in the process – and thankfully no one had seen her act. 

The third and fourth shops had been nothing spectacular, and Paige had picked up a couple of likely-sounding books from each that she thought might further her education. But, her attempts to carefully ask about magic had failed. From the gum-popping teenager manning the front counter of one store, she'd gotten nothing more than a blank stare. From the other, a bubbly, vivacious woman who'd eagerly introduced herself as Marcy, she'd gotten a lecture on magic that had lasted almost fifteen minutes and contradicted everything she'd learned from her sisters so far. Paige had nodded politely in all the right places and escaped as quickly as she could. 

The fifth shop had seemed to be the most promising. The proprietor was a young man with shaggy, blond hair and a Celtic knot tattoo peeking out from the hem of his short-sleeved tee-shirt. He'd actually been the one to initiate their conversation about magic, answering Paige's tentative questions with a broad, easy smile. And he hadn't been the least bit daunted when she'd snuck in a couple of questions about fighting and demons. 

"I know all about demons," he'd reassured her, still smiling, and then he'd handed her a business card for a local drug rehab clinic. "They're very discreet," he went on, while Paige stared at him in disbelief. "They really helped me, and they can help you, too. You don't have to fight with those demons one second longer."

 _'So,'_ Paige thought, as she sat in her car outside the last place on her list, drumming her fingers idly on the steering wheel, _'where, exactly, is the line between neophyte witch and rambling drug addict? Because I'd really like to never have that happen, again.'_

As she stared at the door to the unassuming storefront, she wondered if she was doing the right thing. Maybe she should go back to the Manor, throw herself on her sword, and her sisters' mercy, and beg them to teach her everything they knew. But, then she remembered the furious look on Piper's face, and she had a feeling that her oldest sister wasn't going to be in a welcoming mood. 

She thought that Phoebe might be more welcoming, but things were still uneasy between the three of them, what with Paige being the odd man out, and the shadow of Prue's death still hanging over all their heads. And the last thing she wanted to do was inadvertently pit Phoebe against Piper, even in her defense, or to make Piper feel like she was being ganged up on. She still remembered the empty, hollowed-out feeling from when her parents had died, and how she'd clung desperately to her aunt and uncle as a source of support while pushing everyone else away. Piper and Phoebe were still leaning on each other in their grief, and Paige didn't want to do anything to mess that up. 

Her mind made up, Paige got out of the car and started across the street to the store. There was no name on the storefront, but the battered sign hanging in the window listed palmistry and tarot reading as the owner's specialties. Paige slowly pushed the door open, hearing the melodic chime of bells suspended at the top of the door frame. The shop first looked empty when she stepped inside, but then an old woman, with a scarf tied around her head, stepped out into the main room. 

"I'm sorry," Paige said, as she looked around the darkened store, "are you closing?"

"Not anymore," the woman replied, with a gentle smile as she approached Paige. "Welcome. I am Madame Theresa."

"Hi," Paige said, shaking the hand the woman held out to her. "I'm Paige."

"I know," Theresa said, and Paige raised an eyebrow in surprise. 

"You do?" she asked. "Did you, um, did you read my mind?"

"Just your badge," Theresa said, gesturing at her belt, and Paige glanced down at her work badge still clipped to the waistband of her pants. She'd completely forgotten that she was still wearing it. 

Snagging the badge off her belt, Paige stuffed it in her coat pocket, the elastic of the clip hanging out of her pocket. She took a seat at the low table in the center of the room that Theresa gestured to, folding her long legs underneath herself as she sat on the floor. She winced when her knee popped, and stared jealously at Theresa as the older woman lowered herself to the floor with a grace that she could only envy. 

"Your hand, please," Theresa said, and Paige put her right hand, palm up, on the table. Theresa took her hand, her fingers tracing lightly over the creases in her palm. After a moment she glanced up at Paige, a small, sardonic smile on her face. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that all work and no play makes Paige a dull girl?"

"I haven't had a whole lot of time to play, lately," Paige commented, wistfully. "I've been kind of throwing myself into work, nonstop, the past while."

Theresa made a quiet noise in the back of her throat. She studied Paige's right hand for a while, and then she switched to her left, wordlessly. After a few minutes, she gently placed Paige's hand back on the table. 

"I have to admit," Paige said, when the older woman remained silent, "you're making me a little nervous, here. What, am I dying, or something?" She punctuated her words with a nervous laugh, trailing off into silence when Theresa kept staring down at her palm. 

"I have seen a choice in your future," Theresa said, abruptly, and Paige looked at her in surprise. 

"O-kay," she said, slowly, drawing out the word as she tried to figure out what Theresa was getting at. "Um, what kind of choice?"

"Come with me, please," Theresa said, rather than answering, and without waiting for an answer, she stood up and headed into the back of the store. 

Paige stood up, glancing between the curtain the older woman had disappeared behind, and the front door. The sensible part of her brain was shrieking at her to run as fast and as far as she could, that if she didn't, her sisters were going to be fishing her body out of the bay the next morning. The more adventurous part of her brain, the one that had convinced her to follow her sisters down this crazy magic path in the first place, wanted to follow the woman and see what she was talking about. 

_'It won't hurt to take just a tiny look,'_ Paige thought, glancing toward the curtain, again, ignoring the part of her brain that was now practically screaming at her to get the hell out of there. _'Just one second.'_

Her mind (mostly) made up, Paige headed toward the back of the store. She pushed the curtain aside to find Theresa waiting for her, a mug of something cupped in her hands. She smiled at Paige, handing her the cup. Paige took the cup, glancing down at the dark liquid, and then she shot Theresa a quizzical look. 

"What's this?" she asked. 

"An innocent soul is in danger," Theresa said, another non-answer, and Paige resisted the urge to sigh. 

"What do you mean?" she asked. "Who's in danger?"

"You are the only one who can save her," Theresa went on, undaunted by her questions. "That," she added, nodding at the potion, "will take you to where you need to go."

"And you expect me to just drink this?" Paige asked, incredulously. 

"No," Theresa said, with a small smile. "There is something that I must give you, first."

"Hold it!" Paige barked, when Theresa moved to go past her. "I want some answers. Who the hell are you? Who's in danger? Why am I the only one who can rescue them?"

Theresa cocked her head to the side, as though thinking. "Which question would you like answered?" she asked, curiously. 

"All of them," Paige snapped, getting annoyed. "Look, I don't know who you think I am-"

"I think you are a Charmed One," the older woman said, with an enigmatic smile. "I think you are a witch with potential beyond that which even you know. I think that you have a great destiny laid out before you."

"I don't believe in destiny," Paige told Theresa, and the older woman chuckled. 

"He said that you would be stubborn," she commented, softly. 

"He who?" Paige demanded, but Theresa wasn't listening to her. 

"I cannot tell you that," Theresa said, sounding incredibly sad, like she regretted what she was saying. "Just as I cannot tell you where you are going, or who you must save. It is a quest that you, and you alone, must undertake."

"And you can't prepare me in any way for this?" Paige asked, huffing an impatient sigh when Theresa just shook her head. "Fine," Paige said, throwing her hands in the air in frustration, "I'll go get my sisters, and we'll be back to go save whoever needs saving."

"Your sisters cannot follow where you must go," Theresa interrupted her, and Paige stared at her in disbelief. 

"You know that I'm a Charmed One," she started, and Theresa cut her off with an upraised hand. 

"That is what you are, now," she said, gently. "Not what you can be."

"What does that even mean?" Paige demanded, in frustration. When Theresa still didn't answer, Paige glared at her. "I'm leaving," she threatened, backing toward the curtain, "unless I get some answers. And I mean now."

Theresa remained silent, and Paige whirled around and stalked toward the exit. She'd just shoved the curtain aside when Theresa called out to her in a strangled voice. Paige spun back around, thinking that the woman was hurt, somehow, and she found Theresa watching her with a mournful expression on her face. 

"The one you must save is the one who came before you," she said, entreatingly, holding a hand out to Paige. "You are her only hope."

"You said her," Paige said, slowly, taking a cautious step toward Theresa. "The one who came before me. You – you're talking about Prue, aren't you? _Aren't you_?" she demanded, angrily, a hint of something like hysteria creeping into her voice, when Theresa didn't answer. 

"I do not know her name," the older woman finally murmured, casting her eyes toward the ground. "She stood strong within the circle of three, in the place where you now stand."

Paige didn't fool herself for even a minute that Theresa was talking about her physical spot in the shop. No, she was talking about Paige's place in the Power of Three. There was only one person that she could possibly be referring to. The only problem was – 

"Prue's dead," Paige said, flatly, ignoring the burning in her eyes at the words. "I was at her funeral."

"She lives," Theresa said, quietly. "And you must save her. Before it is too late."

"Why can't I get my sisters?" Paige protested, weakly, subsiding when Theresa simply shook her head. She glanced down at the cup that she'd forgotten she held in her hands, staring into the dark liquid. "Are you sure I have to do this alone?"

"You are the only one," Theresa told her, a solemn tone in her voice. 

Part of Paige wanted to tell Theresa no, wanted to tell her to find someone else. Because wherever Prue was, it couldn't be any place good. If it was somewhere on Earth, she would have just made her way back to her sisters; from everything Paige had learned about her, she was too stubborn not to. Which meant that she was being held someplace that Paige didn't want to even think about. If Prue, strongest witch in their family according to both Piper and Phoebe, needed her rescue – Paige didn't necessarily want to see what she needed to be rescued from. 

But, on the other hand, this was Prue they were talking about. She was the sister that Paige had never thought she'd get to meet. And not only would Piper and Phoebe never forgive her for walking away, she would never forgive herself. 

Paige snorted, silently, thinking about what Theresa had said about having a choice. It was a choice in name, only; there was only one thing she could do. 

"What do I have to do?" she asked, quietly.


	4. Chapter 4

Theresa watched the young witch pace the length of the small office. Her shoulders were tense, and her head was bowed, like she was bearing the weight of the world. Her steps carried her two more times back and forth across the office, and then she stopped, glancing up at Theresa. 

"The Underworld?" she asked, softly, a tremor of fear running through her voice, although Theresa could tell that she was trying to hide it. "You want me to go, alone, into the Underworld."

"Yes," Theresa confirmed. 

"To rescue Prue, by myself," the young woman pressed, insistently. "With powers that I've only had for a couple of weeks, and that I just barely understand."

"Yes," Theresa repeated, calmly, and Paige sighed, digging the heels of her hands into her eyes in frustration. 

" _Why?_ " she asked, a plaintive tone in her voice. "Why me?"

And that was the one question Theresa couldn't answer. Not because she didn't want to, but because she didn't know the answer. She hadn't been given an answer to that particular question, when she'd demanded to know why this young woman, out of all who could have gone on a rescue mission. All he'd told her was that it must be Paige, and no other. 

_'Damn you,'_ she thought, glaring into the shadows, where her mysterious accomplice was lurking. _'Damn you, she's so young. Don't make me do this. Don't make me send her down there on her own.'_

But, the man was silent, and Theresa hated him a little bit for not stepping up and taking this over. For leaving her to do his dirty work. 

"There is no one else," she said, finally, and Paige sighed. 

"What is this?" she demanded, incredulously. "Did the Elders set this up? Is this some kind of test?" Spinning on her heel, she paced anxiously away from Theresa, muttering to herself, although the older woman could still hear her. "That must be it. Leo said that I'm not even supposed to exist, but I do, and there's nothing they can do about that, now, so they're testing me. They want to see if I'm good enough to be one of their precious Charmed Ones-"

Theresa's heart went out to the young woman in front of her. She was clearly suffering for what Theresa was asking of her, and her inner demons were eating away at her self esteem. But, Theresa could see a steel core running through her, a strength that had helped her survive in the past. Theresa only hoped that she could draw on the strength when it counted. 

"There is something I have for you," Theresa said, and Paige stopped her pacing and muttering to look at her. 

Theresa moved over to the small table, removing the cloth-covered bundle from where it was resting on top. As she lifted the bundle, the silken cloth slipped away to reveal a shining, silver sword, and Theresa winced at the strident, screeching sound that assaulted her ears. 

The sword had slipped free of its sheath, an inch of shining, silver blade gleaming in the low light, and Theresa used the silk cloth to hastily push the blade back into the scabbard. She didn't want to touch the sheathed sword with her bare hands, even for a second. She was afraid of the reaction. 

Still cautious, she used the cloth to pick the sword up, carrying it over to where Paige was standing. She held the sword out to the young woman, who was staring at the blade as though entranced. She reached out slowly and took the blade from Theresa's outstretched hands, her fingers curling around the hilt. Then, she pulled the sword from the scabbard. 

"Do you hear that?" she whispered, as the gleaming blade cleared the protection of the silk-lined scabbard. "It's singing."

Theresa had automatically tensed up when Paige had first grasped the sword, but in the young woman's hands, the grating scream had turned melodic. There was a soft whisper of silk as the sword cleared the edge of the scabbard, and then Paige held the naked blade in her hands. 

"It's beautiful," she murmured, quietly. Breaking her gaze away from the weapon, she glanced over at Theresa. "Why would you give this to me?"

"It is meant for you," Theresa told her, a reassuring tone in her voice. 

"I have no idea how to use this," Paige confessed, with a weak chuckle, and Theresa smiled. 

"I think stabbing is the appropriate response," she quipped, and Paige's smile got marginally bigger. 

"Anything else?" she asked. "I don't suppose you have some kind of magical "get out of Hell free" potion, do you?"

"Only one to get you in," Theresa told her, gesturing to the mug on the table, and Paige sighed, softly. 

"I guess there's nothing else for it, then," she replied. Shifting the sword to her right hand, she picked the cup up with her free hand and raised it to Theresa in a toast. " _Salut_ ," she said, and then she downed the contents in a long swallow. 

For a couple of seconds, nothing seemed to be happening, but then the young woman started to glow from within with a soft, golden light. The light got brighter and brighter, until Theresa had to shield her eyes, and when the light had faded, Paige was gone. Theresa sighed, closing her eyes and sending up a brief prayer for the young witch's safety. 

"It's done," she said, flatly, without turning around. "I hope you are pleased."

"Thank you." Her mysterious accomplice stepped out of the shadows he'd been hiding in, staring at the spot where Paige had been standing. He was tall, with dark hair, and a battered leather jacket, and a sword at his waist that sang like Paige's. His face was blank and closed-off, and Theresa could read nothing in his eyes. "I believe I promised you a reward, for your help."

"I hope it is worth trapping a young woman in Hell," Theresa snapped at him.

"Your life, and the lives of your fellow Shuvani?" the young man offered. "A gypsy hunter is after the priestesses of your clans. He hasn't started hunting you, yet, but he will. Now, you can be ready for him."

Theresa stared at the young man. "What would you have done if I'd said no?" she asked. "If I hadn't helped you? Would you have just let us die?"

"I would have wiped the hunter off the face of the earth," the young man told her, "and you would have never been the wiser. But, then," he added, with a small smile, "you already know that, don't you?"

"Why did you ask for my help," Theresa demanded, "if you were going to go after the gypsy hunter, all along?"

"Why did you help me when you knew that the reward was useless?" the young man countered, stubbornly. 

"I saw her path," Theresa admitted, reluctantly. "I saw what she is, what she may yet become. I saw you walk beside her," she added. "That is why I helped you."

The young man looked wistful. "We were good together, once," he said, his voice quiet. "I hope-"

"You love her," Theresa stated, when the young man trailed off, staring into the distance. 

He nodded, a fond smile curving at his lips. "We met after I almost ran her over with my car," he replied. "She'd just been assigned as the social worker to one of my parolees, and we clashed on the case. She was stubborn, and she wouldn't give an inch. And she wound up being right."

"What happened?" Theresa prompted, gently. She'd already seen bits and pieces on her first reading of the young man, when he'd first walked into her shop, but she wanted to hear the full story from him. 

"We were happy," the young man told her, a faraway look in his eyes. "Our twins had just celebrated their fifth birthday, and we were talking about having another baby, and then Phoebe had a premonition. Prue was alive; ten years, and she saw Prue alive. And she and Piper were so excited."

"Paige wasn't?" Theresa asked, carefully, sensing that they were entering dangerous territory with the young man. 

"No, she was," the young man hastened to tell her. "But, she could tell that something was off with Prue, could see something that Piper and Phoebe couldn't. A decade in the Underworld can change anyone, even someone as strong as Prue, but Piper and Phoebe just couldn't see it. They wouldn't listen to Paige when she tried to warn them, and then it was too late. She died protecting them from someone they thought they could trust."

"You tried to change it," Theresa said, and the young man sighed, his shoulders slumping. 

"The Elders wouldn't listen to me," he said, a bitter tone in his voice. "They kept telling me that it was destined, that nothing could be changed. That my wife, my soul mate, was gone. Forever. I couldn't live with that. So I didn't."

"You came back," Theresa commented.

"I came back," the young man confirmed. "It took me almost a year to find a way to do it, to save her. But, I finally found a way."

"Impressive, for a mortal," Theresa told him. 

"I was highly motivated," came the calm response, and the young man ran his fingers lightly over the hilt of his sword. Theresa could hear the same, faint singing that came from the weapon she'd given Paige. The weapon that the young man had given her. "I didn't mean to come back this far," he confessed, after a long moment. "But, once I realized when I was, I couldn't pass up the chance I'd been given. I had the chance to save her, save everyone."

"You would circumvent destiny?" Theresa asked. 

"Screw destiny." The young man pushed himself away from the counter he'd been leaning on, his eyes blazing with a fierce light. "I am tired of watching good people die because of destiny. If Death wants to take the woman I love, he's going to have to fight me every step of the way."

Theresa didn't bother with a reply. This young man wasn't the first one she'd seen challenge death, challenge fate. But, he was the first she'd met who was stubborn enough to succeed. 

"You're going down there," she commented, but she didn't need an answer. "You're going down there, after her."

The young man gave her a smile that didn't reach his eyes, his hand curling around the hilt of his sword. "She's my life. Where she goes, so do I."

"Who are you?" Theresa asked, before the young man could disappear. "Tell me your name."

"Henry," he said, as he faded out of her shop, his voice trailing behind him. "Henry Mitchell."


End file.
